Put Me Back Together
by whatsername22
Summary: Kurt gives Artie a ride home. Artie comes to a realization. Kurt/Artie slash, oneshot. Spoilers for "Wheels."


Disclaimer: I don't own Glee whatsoever. If it was, there'd be more slash happening.

A/N: My first Glee fic! I've never written outside of the Harry Potter fandom, but I just love this show so much! And I love these two boys most of all. I'm not sure the characterizations are realistic enough, but hopefully I'll get better at it. This fic takes place after "Wheels" (episode 1x09). Please review! :D

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In retrospect, Artie thought that maybe he should have decided against coming to Brittany's party.

He was surprised enough to have even received an invitation—granted, he was addressed as part of a large group of Glee kids and the invitation itself may have included several uses of the words 'like' and 'fun' and 'awesome' and, inexplicably, 'unicorn'—but he would take what he could get. He hadn't really bothered thinking about the logistics of the situation, though.

Not that the party was a dud, or anything. In fact, it had become rather on the raucous side. But what was Artie gaining from it, exactly? He couldn't dance, and he sure as hell couldn't drink…it was difficult enough maneuvering his chair while sober, thanks very much, and the last thing he wanted was to keep anyone else from doing either of those things by making them sit and chat with him.

Artie chanced a glance at Tina, who had perhaps consumed more alcohol than anyone there (aside from Puck, who oddly enough wasn't acting all that affected, but Artie assumed he had a lot of practice with this sort of thing). He had been studiously trying to ignore her gaze all evening; dinner before the party had been…uncomfortable. He had spent the majority of it messing with his parking brake and staring a hole through his plate.

Tina was currently dancing with Kurt, rather scandalously, Artie thought with a twinge of something, while Kurt played along, brow furrowed in bemusement. His gaze shifted to Kurt, who was ensconced in skintight white pants, a fluffy pink sweater and a fedora—one of his more subdued numbers—and was grinding innocently between Tina and Mercedes. Artie had never really taken the time to appreciate Kurt's dancing, but it was really…nice…to watch. Sure, it was kind of gay as anything that ever was, but he was obviously enjoying himself. And that kind of thing was infectious. That, and Kurt's pants didn't really leave much to the imagination, which was a thought that Artie immediately pushed to the back of his mind because that's what he always did when this happened, even though his stomach felt fluttery and his mouth had gone a little dry.

Artie watched as Kurt gently pushed Tina at Mercedes, who was laughing, and over the blaring music he heard him tell Mercedes to get Tina some water. Mercedes responded by plucking the hat off of Kurt's head and placing it on her own, and giggling as she ran off, Tina in tow.

Kurt walked, or strutted, or whatever it was that Kurt did, in Artie's direction and delicately sat in the armchair next to where Artie had parked himself. Kurt looked over at him, arms outstretched to rest on primly crossed legs, and smiled.

"Enjoying the party?" he asked, a little breathless (but he always sounded a little breathless, anyway).

"Not really," Artie said before he could stop himself. He cursed his brain. Brittany was Kurt's (sort of) friend, and Kurt could be a real bitch if he wanted to be. He was relieved to hear Kurt's light, breathy laughter.

"I know what you mean," he said, his eyes somewhere else.

"You looked like you were having fun before." Artie felt his fingertips tingle when Kurt's cheeks went a bit pink.

"Dancing is fun," he said, shrugging, and turned to look Artie directly in the eye. "But I do that plenty on my own." His small smile turned into a conspiratorial smirk, and Artie found himself flushing and he chuckled to cover it up. He was reminded of his own impromptu performance in the auditorium, and the song's implications…but that thought was a tad too much for Artie to deal with at that moment. He squirmed a bit under the scrutiny of Kurt's gaze.

"At least you're drunk?" Artie offered, a little weakly. Kurt just shook his head and laughed that airy, tinkling laugh that Artie liked way too much, and rearranged his hair.

"I haven't had anything to drink," he said, sounding a little surprised but smiling anyway. Artie couldn't remember seeing Kurt drink anything specifically, he had just assumed…

"Why not?"

Kurt waited until he was finished smoothing his bangs, every hair in perfect position, before he smiled prettily and said,

"You need a ride home, don't you?"

Artie's chest clenched, so much that he had to remind himself that the question was completely valid and _not at all_ a big deal. Kurt was probably going to drive everyone home…Mercedes, and Tina, because Tina definitely couldn't get herself home, and—

"Yeah, I guess so," Artie managed, avoiding Kurt's eyes by staring at an unsuspecting lamp across the room.

"Well," Kurt said, deftly uncrossing his legs, standing, and smoothing his sweater of non-existent wrinkles, "I'm ready to go whenever you are."

Artie pointedly tried not to get distracted by just how shockingly pink Kurt's sweater was, or how the white coloring of his pants wasn't much paler than Kurt's own milky skin.

"Do you want me to grab Mercedes and Tina and meet you by your car?" Artie asked, deciding to stare at Kurt's white boots…it was the safest route.

"What?" Kurt asked, and Artie looked up and saw that his perfectly sculpted brows were furrowed in confusion. "I'm not taking them home. Tina lives a block away from here and Mercedes is going to crash at her place. They were talking about it at dinner."

"Oh," Artie mumbled, trying to combat embarrassment—the fact that he felt any was embarrassing to _himself_—by fiddling with his suspenders. "Sorry, I guess I wasn't paying attention?"

Kurt eyed Artie for a moment before smiling.

"It's quite alright. I'm just going to say goodbye to Mercedes and get my hat back," Kurt said brightly, and Artie thought he heard him mutter something about his hat being "worth more than her whole outfit" as he flounced off, and he stifled a chuckle.

Kurt talked into Mercedes' ear, they did the weird kiss-kiss on the cheek thing that Artie had only ever seen in movies, swiped his fedora off of Mercedes' head, and scampered away, laughing. Artie definitely didn't see the strip of pale skin that was exposed on Kurt's midsection when he reached up to put the hat on. Nope.

"Want a push?" Kurt asked, all business again. Artie was all for autonomy, but he didn't trust himself to not be klutzy and stupid right now, so he shrugged and nodded. Kurt, smiling faintly, complied.

The walk to the car was…interesting. Kurt leaned over the back of the chair a little too close for Artie to be completely comfortable, and it was causing problems. Namely, that Artie could smell the cologne Kurt was wearing—light and more sweet than spicy—and he could maybe possibly feel the small, warm puffs of breath Kurt was making when he exhaled as they tickled his hair.

Oh God, he _really_ needed to get laid.

"Thanks for doing this," he said, because he had to do something to distract himself and break the tension. "Seriously, you didn't have to."

Kurt wheeled them to a stop next to his black SUV, which was clean and shiny (_like Kurt_, thought Artie, and mentally slapped himself).

"It's hardly a problem," Kurt said in that matter-of-fact tone that Artie envied; Kurt was so at ease in these situations. Somehow, Artie could get up on stage and sing his heart out, but basic conversation was a struggle. "You need a ride, I have a vehicle. And you're on my way home." Kurt flashed him that closed-mouth smile that Artie always thought looked vaguely flirtatious, but no, nonono, he couldn't think about that now. Not when Kurt was opening the passenger door and somehow managing to _shimmy_ at the same time.

"No, I mean…I didn't mean to, you know, prevent you from drinking and enjoying yourself or whatever." Artie hoisted himself up into the car, with years of practice as his guide, and situated himself with his arms.

"Don't be ridiculous," Kurt said good-naturedly as he folded up the chair without much effort, "those fruity drinks…terrible for the complexion. And, beer, _ugh_, even worse." He made a face. Artie smiled as he always did when Kurt said something really flamboyant, to convey that he didn't mind and wasn't going to judge him. He wasn't sure why he did it…it just seemed important. Kurt put Artie's chair in the trunk, slammed the door shut, and climbed into the driver's seat. "Besides," he said, smiling faintly and turning the ignition, "I like talking to you. I hope that doesn't sound weird or anything."

Artie was glad for the darkness, because he could feel his face heat up in what seemed like an impressive blush.

"Um, no. No, it's not weird. I…I enjoy our conversations, too." Artie silently thanked his brain for formulating an acceptable response. Small victories.

They drove in silence for a couple of blocks, Beyoncé drifting softly through the speakers, Artie staring out the window and thinking about how nice the inside of Kurt's car smelled.

"So what's going on between you and Tina?"

Artie choked a little, but coughed loudly to cover it up. Of all topics of conversation that could come up, he wasn't sure why, but this one hadn't crossed his mind. He hadn't talked about this to anyone yet, let alone their mutual friends.

"Um, nothing right now. Why?"

"Well…girl kept giving you longing glances in the process of getting thoroughly trashed. That, and you guys haven't spoken in Glee for several days. And she hasn't, you know, pushed you around or anything."

Artie flushed again. It was true, he had been getting to classes by himself way more than normal this week…he thought it would make him feel bereft or something, but it had just been…different. Quiet.

"Uh, yeah. We're…we're not really talking right now." Kurt glanced at him, eyebrow raised, and Artie relented. "Okay, fine. I liked her…but I didn't know her as well as I thought I did, I guess." He shrugged.

Kurt was silent for a moment, before responding.

"Does this have anything to do with the fact that she hasn't stuttered in the past few days?"

Artie sighed and nodded wordlessly, watching Kurt's manicured hands turn the steering wheel. How was it that he managed to look graceful even while driving a car?

"I'm sorry," Kurt said quietly, turning briefly to offer him a tiny, sympathetic smile before averting his eyes back to the road ahead of him. "But…if I may offer some probably unwanted input?"

Artie couldn't help but snort before motioning Kurt to continue.

"I understand why you're upset…it must seem ludicrous, and insulting, that she voluntarily handicapped herself, but…maybe you should hear her out. I'm sure she has her reasons, and…and everyone deserves a second chance." Kurt's voice wavered a bit and then went soft. "And if you really like her, don't give up." He nodded once as if to finalize his statement.

Artie considered his words for a few moments. He looked over at Kurt, who met his gaze, maybe a little sadly. He thought of what Kurt must go through every day, how he had been saddled with his own burden since birth and was powerless to change it, how even though people looked at Artie differently, it was mostly out of pity, but a lot of people looked at Kurt with _hate_, with disdain, and Artie was overcome with how strong Kurt must be to have the courage to be himself every day.

"I…I think I liked her because…I was lonely, and I didn't think there was anybody else," Artie said slowly, letting the words come without overthinking them. It was an odd sensation. "But…I think there is. Somebody else, I mean."

He looked at Kurt, his heart in his throat.

When Kurt's eyes left the road and met Artie's, they widened, and his mouth fell open. Artie noticed the car had come to a stop, and realized that they were outside of his house. Kurt turned off the engine and the music stopped.

They sat in silence for several minutes, the meaning of Artie's words hanging thick around them. Despite the tension, Artie felt a strange sense of calm. He tried not to dwell on the fact that smelling Kurt's cologne could freak him out, but admitting his feelings for him…that didn't seem to bother him.

Slowly, Kurt turned to look at him, and he bit his lip.

"You don't want me," Kurt said shakily, his face pained. Artie swallowed and resisted the urge to put his hand on Kurt's shoulder.

"I think I do." He wanted to say more, he wanted to tell him how it was probably Kurt who didn't want _him_, and that he wouldn't blame him for it, but he didn't. Kurt buried his face in his hands and gave a dark laugh.

"Artie...I'm no better than Tina," he said, shaking his head. His eyes were wet.

"What do you mean?" Artie gave in to his urge and placed a tentative hand on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt tensed briefly, but relaxed into the touch with a deep breath.

"You know that solo I tried out for? Against Rachel?" Artie nodded. "I…I blew the note. The high F…I messed up on purpose."

Artie felt a familiar sinking in his gut, just like he had felt after Tina's confession. It was disappointment, and frustration, and resentment. And it hurt.

But…he remembered Kurt's words from earlier, about second chances, and hearing people out. If anyone deserved to be heard out, it was Kurt. Artie took a breath.

"Why?"

"The day before the diva-off, my dad…he got an anonymous call at work. Some guy from school informing him that his son was a fag." Artie tensed at the word, but remained silent. "I told him that it was nothing I hadn't been called a million times to my face, that I didn't care…but I could tell, he was upset, really upset about it. And he knows…about me, but it's been hard for him, especially without my mother, and…I couldn't do it to him. If I had performed that song, things would only get worse. I couldn't do it." Kurt sniffed and blinked. "And…this doesn't mean that I'll hide, or pretend to be straight, God forbid"—Artie smiled at that—"but I won't hurt him for the sake of my pride. Artie…I can't do that. But I can understand if it…you know, taints your image of me."

Artie looked at Kurt, then, at his pale face, nearly translucent in the dark, at his eyes, shining with almost shed tears. And Artie thought, in that moment, that nobody had ever looked as beautiful to him.

With nothing but that thought in his head, Artie reached over, gently cupped Kurt's face in his hands, and kissed him.

Kurt was still for a moment, long enough to cause Artie to worry, just the slightest bit. But then Kurt whimpered, gripped Artie's shoulders tightly, and kissed back, and Artie couldn't think anymore.

And it was really, really nice, and Kurt still smelled so good, and when Artie opened his mouth a little bit he felt Kurt's tongue tentatively reach for his. And then it was more than nice, it was _amazing_, and he felt Kurt's soft hands carding through his hair in response to an embarrassing noise that must have come from him, but he didn't really care because Kurt's touches were making him sigh, making him _ache_, and he couldn't stop himself from sliding a hand around to the back of Kurt's neck and deepening the kiss. Kurt let out a high, breathy moan that Artie could feel in his mouth.

It was getting to be too much for both of them, and they parted, breathing deeply, hands still around each other. In their closeness, Artie could count every one of Kurt's long, pretty eyelashes and make out the pale blue-green of his irises, could see how their kissing had turned Kurt's pink lips red and puffy…and way too inviting.

Kurt swallowed and looked down.

"Are you sure?" His voice was faint, he was almost whispering.

Artie couldn't help but smile, trailing his hand down Kurt's soft cheek and lifting his chin to meet his gaze.

"Kurt…it doesn't matter to me, okay?"

Kurt let out a breath as if he had been holding it in for a long time, and hesitantly returned the smile until it became brilliant, his eyes bright. He reached up to straighten Artie's glasses.

Artie blushed, but his grin stayed plastered on his face.

"What do you think?" he asked, voice rough and low.

Kurt considered him for a moment, brought a hand around to smooth Artie's mussed hair, and finally, smiled that flirty, closed-mouthed smile that Artie liked so much.

"I think I want to take you shopping tomorrow," he said, and plucked his hat off his head and placed it on Artie's.

Artie just smiled back, and couldn't think of anything else he'd rather do.


End file.
